


The Hidden Phoenix

by aStudyInPiink, Mycroffed



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: John is Ron, Kidlock, M/M, Much more to be added, Potterlock, Sherlock is pretty much Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2747138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aStudyInPiink/pseuds/aStudyInPiink, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mycroffed/pseuds/Mycroffed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all starts with a complicated sorting, after everything seems safe Christmas break brings the beginning of many changes to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hidden Phoenix

**Author's Note:**

> We both work on chapters when we can but the school season is holding us back. Hopefully we will have more going soon.  
> aStudyInPiink writes Sherlock and Mycroffed writes John.

_**Sherlock** _

 

It was raining as they got off the train; shouting everywhere, from first years to seventh, there was a scramble for shelter of any sort. A first year, Sherlock Holmes, struggling with his owl looked around desperately for his brother, a fifth year, Mycroft Holmes. When the small boy saw him through the raven curls flattened to his head he shouted; only to be disregarded with a wave of the hand. Sherlock glared and resumed trying to get his owl out and to join the other first years.

“Ye need some help there, mate?” A man asked.

“Oh, yes please,” Sherlock said relieved and turned around only to stop short. The man in front of him was two times the size of the tallest man he had seen before, not to mention his face was almost completely hidden by a scruffy beard. He was large in size, but that didn’t stop Sherlock from smiling at the kindness he saw in his big eyes.

The large man took Sherlock’s owl and bags and led him to the group, sheltering the shivering boy with his coat. “Me names Hagrid, I’m leading you first years over. Me and my dog Fang are the groundskeepers,” Hagrid said to Sherlock with surely a smile behind the beard.

“Nice to meet you, Hagrid. I’m Sherlock Holmes,” the boy sat next to Hagrid on the small boats as they crossed the lake, not minding the lack of space.

 

****

 

Sherlock had been forced to say his goodbyes to his newest, and only, friend. His gaze followed Hagrid from the room before resting on a strict looking witch in emerald green robes. Only the first years were stopped before the Great Hall, and the green cloaked witch soon started to explain.

“I am Professor McGonagall, head of the house of Gryffindor. You will wait here until you are called for the sorting, try not to drip too much on the floors; our caretaker despises it, along with most things,” Mcgonagall murmured the last part under her breath as she let herself into the Great Hall.

The first years looked to one another and started murmuring. Sherlock shrank into a corner, his slim frame allowing him to sneak through easily. He smiled a little as the house ghosts started to float through the walls to the Great Hall; laughing softly to himself as some of the muggle-borns scream.

It was nearly ten minutes before McGonagall walked out again and spoke, “First years, follow after me.” She led them inside the Great Hall and had them file a line in front of the professors and students; so they looked out into the many faces of the other years. She soon carried out a stool and placed a patched up hat upon it; a tear in the rim started to move and the hat started to sing, keeping the attention of everyone in the room,

 

_“Oh, you may not think I’m pretty,_

_But don’t judge on what you see,_

_I’ll eat myself if you can find_

_A hat smarter than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There’s nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can’t see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you’ve a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You’ll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don’t be afraid!_

_And don’t get in a flap!_

_You’re in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I’m a Thinking Cap!”_

 

There were many applause when the hat stopped, even a few of the less nervous first years clapped; most just stared in awe. Sherlock didn’t do much of anything, instead staring down and hoping he would go anywhere but with his brother. He knew he was supposed to be a Slytherin, his father was not to mention his brother too. Only his mother was a Gryffindor and they didn't talk about it much.

McGonagall wasted no time in starting to read the names, "Irene Adler." She called first.

"Sherlock Holmes," McGonagall called and the black haired boy looked up, taking a deep breath as he went to sit on the stool.

Sherlock closed his eyes as the hat was placed on his head he silently wished to be anywhere but with his brother. All he could hear was the hat humming as it tried to place him, "So..not to happy with your lineage then? It's a shame, Slytherin would be great for you." The hat murmured. It took a long time for it to finally call him out as Gryffindor, like his mother. He silently walked to the end of the table, no applause followed him as he sat.

 

 

_**John** _

 

 

John had been looking everywhere even since he had set foot on platform 9 3/4. He had never dared to imagine that he'd travel in a real steam engine train! He had heard about those of course, in class during history, but that wasn't the same as seeing one in real life. And then he had arrived on this small platform, looking around, hoping there'd be other first years he could follow. But he didn't know enough about Hogwarts to see the difference. Maybe that was because they all looked so similar (he could tell the difference between a first year and a sixth year, but put a second year and a first year next to each other? Nope, not a clue).

He heard someone calling for all the first years and followed his voice.

He was very grateful that someone had obviously thought about those little first years who could get lost very easy. The man the voice belonged to was Hagrid, as John heard him say to another first year with curly black hair. The man was huge (he had never seen a half giant before) and had a messy beard and messy hair.

'Well, that's someone I'll never lose in a crowd,' John thought jokingly to himself.

He started following him to the side of a lake, where small boats were waiting for them. He shared a boat with two other first years, Neville Longbottom and another one whose name he almost immediately forgot.

He kept throwing glances at the boy with the curly hair he had seen with Hagrid earlier. He seemed a bit nervous, but who wasn't. He smiled to himself. Even though he was really nervous himself, he was thinking he was hiding it rather well: he wasn't crying (something he imagined himself doing before he came here) or swearing. He didn't even feel uneasy.

The boats brought them to a boathouse, from where they had to climb a lot of stairs to reach the castle. With every step John took, his mouth dropped open a bit more. He was in a proper medieval castle! He had dreamed about being a knight, once, when he was still smaller. And now he'd be living in a real caste!

At the top of the stairs a teacher, who introduced herself as professor McGonagall, was waiting for them. She led them to the door of the great hall - or what John figured was the great hall - and told them there to wait. A lot of students began to talk to the others quite nervously, but he just stood there in a corner, looking at the people. He immediately spotted the black-haired boy again, who was also standing alone, just like him. He contemplated walking over to him and talking to him, but he had decided not to. Not that he had much choice, because even if he had decided to do it, the professor returned at that exact moment.

'You can come in.'

John couldn't believe what a beautiful hall it was! All the first years walked to the front of the room and clustered together in front of the table where all the professors were seated. He was still staring at the other boy, who didn't show any signs of nervousness. It wasn't his business really, but still, it was nice to know he wasn't the only one to be able to hide it.

There was a hat sitting in a chair in front of them and McGonagall started to explain how the Sorting Ceremony would work. After that, the hat began to sing. Like really, really sing. It took John a bit by surprise.

When the hat was done, McGonagall started to call names for people to come forward. The list was alphabetically, so John knew from the beginning he'd have to wait till almost the end. So what he did was try to learn the names of his fellow students. He was particularly curious about the name of the boy he had seen multiple times now.

After every sorting, the older pupils applauded politely, for some more enthusiastic than for others. You could see how the four houses behaved towards each other. When a Gryffindor was sorted, everyone applauded but Slytherin. And it was the same for a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff. But when a Slytherin was sorted, the only group that applauded were effectively the Slytherins. They didn't seem very welcome in this school.

After fifteen minutes, McGonagall called Sherlock Holmes forwards. The entire hall went silent. The raven-haired boy walked forwards and sat down on the chair. You could hear a mouse squeak. When eventually the hat sorted him in Gryffindor, nobody applauded. John frowned slightly. Most of the time the Gryffindors were liked and accepted by the largest part of the school. John silently promised Sherlock that if he was sorted in Gryffindor, he'd talk to him. Sherlock walked to the other end of the table and sat down, all alone.

McGonagall continued calling names and eventually, it was his turn.

'John Watson.'

He slowly walked forward, a bit nervous, realizing very well that if he would be sorted anywhere but Gryffindor, he wouldn't be able to live his promise.

Professor McGonagall smiled up to him as he sat down and she put the hat on his head. She could see how nervous he was, without any doubt. As the hat touched his head, John began to hear it, inside his mind.  _Oh, what do we have here?_  The hat muttered.  _A nice pair of brains, but the question is, Gryffindor or Hufflepuff?_

'Please sort me in Gryffindor...'

_ In Gryffindor, ey?  _ He felt like the hat smirked at him.  _And why would you want that? Oh I see, the Holmes boy. He's alone and you want him not to be._

'Please, just sort me in Gryffindor.'

_ Very well, then it'll be  _ 'GRYFFINDOR!'

John sighed in relief as the hat was taken from his head and he was allowed to walk to his house's table. There was a roaring applause for him and everyone at the Gryffindor table smiled at him, like he was someone special, like he was a good catch. But he ignored them all as he walked to the end of the table and sat next to Sherlock Holmes.

 

 


End file.
